I end up back in Wolf's car, in the same position that I was hours ago when I swore to leave and never look back. I should probably work on my resolve. But, there's something about him that ignites a curiosity in me. I know that's dangerous, but I also know that he's right. I have no idea how to survive here. And for as much trouble as he's caused me, he's also provided me security in some ways. He knows how to stay under the radar but he's not afraid to face anyone, he's detached from the world, yet so in control of his surroundings. I could probably learn a thing or two from him at least. We drive in silence, with only the sound of Kobra lightly snoring in the backseat. I realize that I probably seem like I have a death wish running off with a stranger in the middle of the night, having no idea where he's taking me. I lightly grip my legs to calm my nerves, and to keep them from shaking. It's a unique experience to be around someone who makes me feel so incredibly uneasy but safe at the same time. I wouldn't feel so conflicted around him if he wasn't such a moody prick. Because he seems to run more on animal instincts than anything else, I find myself wondering if he was raised in the jungle. But even though he's completely lacking in social skills, I still find myself drawn to him and unable to defy him.

"What are you thinking?" he questions, shaking me from my thoughts. I clear my throat and look over at him. His features seem to soften in the night, almost like he feels more at ease hidden in the dark. I can definitely relate to that.

"Just wondering if you're going to murder me" I joke.

The corners of his mouth twitch lightly upwards with the hint of a smile. I'm glad he at least appreciates my sense of humor.

"Why do you keep bringing me around...?" I ask, changing the subject, feeling equal parts awkward and self-conscious.

"Honestly, I don't know" he replies quietly, a hint of turmoil present in his eyes as he glances at me. I bite the edge of my thumb, wishing I could get inside his head. I don't believe for a second that he doesn't have a calculated motive for every single move he makes. There's a reason he keeps insisting on my presence, he's just not going to tell me what it is. But I'll figure it out somehow, I reassure myself.

"We're here" he finally says, as we pull into a clearing in a field. It's dark, but I can just barely make out a small house about 50 yards away. There's a river flowing to the left of the field and I hear a large splash before I turn to see Kobra jumping in. He runs back to us, carrying a ball that Wolf must have thrown as I was evaluating the scene. He shakes the excess water off his fur and bounds towards the house. A censored light flashes on as Kobra gets closer and I realize that it's less like a house and more like a perfectly square abandoned building, stripped of doors and windows. My eyebrows pull together as I look back at Wolf. This looks exactly like the place you would take someone to murder them. I don't even know if anyone would find us out here and I get the feeling that was the point.

The field leading up to the large flat is filled with weeds almost as tall as me, further obscuring the space. I walk in small steps, trailing behind Wolf. Kobra loops around an open archway and runs back toward me. Wolf watches the dog intently as he positions himself against my leg and matches my pace alongside me. He grimaces in irritation and opens his mouth to say something, but then decides against it and picks up his pace toward the property. The walls are bare concrete with graffiti staggered across them and there's a single metal chair sitting randomly in the corner of the entryway, making it look like the crime scene of a kidnapping. I swallow as I continue to follow Wolf, hoping that my instincts have not led me astray and that I am not about to turn into a character from the Saw movies. He walks down the corridor and turns the corner to the left, following the square pattern of the building. After one more left turn, we come across an actual door on the inside wall and I stare at it curiously. It has a deadbolt and a strange metal plank in front of it. Wolf pulls the plank up with little effort, the taut muscles under his t-shirt flexing. He inserts a key into the hole and I hear a couple different clicking noises before the door pushes open. My eyes widen as I enter the fully decorated house that's hidden within the walls of the building. It's completely modern and spotless, as if no one has ever stepped foot in it. There's not a single thing out of place and it's designed beautifully, a hidden getaway. Everything I dreamed that Germany would be for me, but knew I would never receive, is in this house. We enter into a large living room with a massive L-shaped couch. I find it odd that he has enough space to fit 20 people on this couch when I get the sense that he rarely has guests over. He grabs my hand and I feel a light buzz that climbs from my fingertips to my arms. There's that electricity again, like a moth to a flame. Does he feel it too? I follow him into a hallway and he shows me the first room, which is like a tech whiz's dream, with multiple computers and a large screen up on the wall, monitoring the whole outside of the compound through security cameras. I didn't see them when we were walking in so they must be strategically placed. This guy is like a secret genius with this own hidden lair. But what is he hiding from? Or who?

"Come" he says as he continues the unofficial tour. He shows me to another bedroom, decorated in lilac and white, with a full-sized bed against the wall and a fluffy white rocking chair next to it. It looks like a young girl's room, with fresh daisies on the nightstand. Does someone else live here? I ponder to myself. I walk over and notice that there is also a picture next to the flowers. It's a photo of a younger Wolf, sans tattoos and sporting a toothy grin across his face. He has his arm around a small girl, who looks like him but with lighter hair and eyes. What speaks to me is the fact that he seems so much lighter in this picture, like a regular teenager who likely has friends and an actual personality. Unlike the emotionally blunted man before me. He pulls me away as I reach out to touch the photo. We come to another room at the end of the hall and he opens the door, exposing an expansive master bedroom, decorated in all black. There's a large black wooden bed frame and headboard with a circular bed that's bigger than a California King. It could fit maybe 7 people across it comfortably. Two matte black nightstands are stationed on either side of the bed and there's a matching dresser across from it. The bed is elevated to look like it's floating and I fight the urge to jump on it. The entire left wall of the room has a bookcase from floor to ceiling, built into the wall. I never pegged Wolf for much of a reader. I investigate the shelves and spot the titles of hundreds of classic novels. I'm impressed at the prospect that he's ever read any of these and I shoot a curious glance at him over my shoulder. The snake tattoo on his shoulder wiggles as he lifts his shirt off his head.

"Seriously?" I taunt. "It's like negative 30 degrees outside. What's with the shirts?"

"Do you not like my body Skye?" he asks with a serious expression and the tiniest hint of sarcasm.

"What? I...of course not. I mean, of course. Of course I do....I just...I meant-"

"Relax Lauferin" he laughs, which I'm sure is a novel sound in this house. "Why are you so...uptight?" He mimics my question from yesterday morning, looking me up and down like he sees me for the first time.

I shoot a death glare at him, crossing my arms. "Don't start with me Williams. I still haven't forgiven you for offering me up like a kidney on the black market."

"Always with the dramatics, huh?" he rolls his eyes patronizingly. "Perhaps I can make it up to you then?" he proposes, with a hint of a challenge beneath the words.

"Impossible" I huff, jutting my chin out defiantly and looking away from him. He's right, I definitely have a flare for drama.

"That's not true. I know what you want" he teases, licking his lips. Is he insinuating that I want sex?! He definitely does not know me at all. What on earth would compel me to sleep with someone who doesn't respect anyone, including me? Like him being a borderline sociopath is supposed to turn me on? Besides, I'm still...I haven't. Done...that, thing. The thing two people do when they do that. The sex thing.

"You're joking right." I look at him, my face twisting in disgust.

"Please, don't flatter yourself" he quips. I drop my gaze uncomfortably and wait for him to continue. "I'm talking about a question. You can ask me any question you want. Just one, and I will answer honestly."

My head whips back up and I eye him suspiciously. "What makes you think I have any questions for you?"

"You are too obvious, Skye. Your face shows everything. It's something we need to work on." This irritates me for many reasons. First of all, I think I have excellent control of my face. Also, why does he keep acting like he knows anything about me. Does he know something about me? My mind traces back to that bizarre comment Klaus made about a "she" who wants something to do with me. This is all so confusing that I want to scream. But I have to play this strategically, so I keep my mouth shut.

Besides, for a complete stranger he does seem to read me surprisingly well and I definitely am interested in hearing a multi-syllable sentence come out of his mouth. "Fine" I reply. "Who's the girl in the picture?"

"That's what you want to know?" He eyes me humorously, the right side of his mouth tugging upwards. "Out of everything?" he adds. I scowl at him and nod. "Ok. That is my sister, Madelene."

"Is she alive?" I ask before immediately slapping my hand over my mouth. Way to be super inappropriate Skye.

He assesses me, his eyes flitting back and forth from my hazel eye to my blue eye. He finally decides to say, "Yes, she's alive. And that was two questions. My turn."

"What! I didn't say you got to ask a question, that's not how this works."

"Truth or dare?" His eyes bore into mine.

"Are you joking? Surely you are. We're not 12." His stare is unrelenting and I feel a shiver run up my spine. He shakes his head.

"Pick one" he commands calmly.

"Dare" I challenge with a smirk. He probably thought I would choose truth like a little girl. I'm not afraid of tattooed boys with dark eyes.

"Close your eyes and count to 10." I look at him like he's crazy. But I never back down from a dare so I close my eyes and begin to count down.

"10, 9, 8, 7...." I hear Wolf shuffling slightly.

"6, 5, 4..." I can tell that he's coming nearer now. I sense his presence. My stomach flutters in response and my heart starts racing.

"3, 2-" I lose my ability to speak when I feel his breathe against my lips. He smells like peppermint and it's intoxicating.

He leans forward and whispers into my ear, "Continue Skye." My legs turn to jelly and I have to tighten my core to keep myself from collapsing. I try to control my breathing but I fail miserably.

I finally muster up enough courage to continue. "One" I mutter breathlessly. My body hums with anticipation and I fight myself not to open my eyes. A finger lightly grazes down my cheek and I imagine for a moment that I'm back in California, with Liam. He always touched me so gently, like I was made of glass. Then I'm brought back into the moment when Wolf's thumb slowly trails across my lower lip. My chest flutters and my lips naturally part open at the contact.

His subtle german accent is back in my ear. "Do not give yourself away, Skye. I can see it. The fear. The desire. It is on your face as plain as day." His energy is softer this way, almost like he is safer to be vulnerable when my senses are inhibited. I can understand now that he is not scolding me, but trying strengthen my weak spots. I swallow and nod gently and his hands continue tracing behind my earlob and down my neck. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his trail and I fight to keep my composure. I nibble on my left lip and he evens it out with his thumb before returning to my collarbones. I'm not sure how far I'm willing to let him go. I'm shocked that I even allowed him to go this far. Liam and I haven't even made it to second base yet. I know I'm technically an adult but my father would have likely murdered anyone who touched me anyway. Something in me decides to see where this will go. He surprises me trailing his finger down between my chest, but not touching my breasts. He then uses two hands to graze down my stomach over my dress. I automatically wince and jump back, my sharp inhale puncturing the room and shifting the mood.

"Did I hurt you?" He looks at me with a mixture of shock and horror. It's the most emotion I've seen out of him. I shake my head no and cross my arms over my chest. "What is it, what's wrong?" he asks. I look away but he pulls my chin back with his thumb and forefinger. "Look at me. What is it?" he repeats.

"I don't want you to see" I look away in shame.

"See what?" I shake my head again, with more intensity this time.

"I can't. You won't understand."

"You're wrong" he says, with a serious look across his face. "Let me see." He reaches for my dress and waits for my permission to pull it up. I nod and screw my eyes shut, turning my head to the side. I don't want to see his reaction. He exposes my stomach and I hear him suck in a breathe. I look down at what he sees, which is my stomach covered in scars. Courtesy of my father. The largest of them runs along my hip to underneath my bra. I won't get into the details because even I can't stomach the memories. When I think he's going to turn away in disgust, he pulls the dress up further, bringing it over my head. I pull my arms out one by one and he assesses the rest of my body. My legs were a safe zone because I often wore shorts back home, in the California weather. My father was kind enough to give me that at least. My arms are also covered in scars and I'm sporting a 13 day old bruise that still hasn't healed on my rib cage.

Dread fills Wolf's eyes, then his expresssion turns dark. Now he understands. That I'm a freak, with freak eyes and a freakish body. Still, he doesn't budge or turn away. Instead, he pulls me to the bed and onto his lap, laying my head against his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry Skye" he murmurs into my hair. For the first time in 10 years, I let myself cry. I start and I can't stop. Wolf just holds me there and rubs my back gently as I sob into his shoulder. He sways side to side so that I can regulate my breathing.

When I look back into his eyes, the dread has been overtaken by rage. "Who did this?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"Don't worry" I reply numbly. "He's already dead."